


And It All Started With A Black Eye

by vierana



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Army, Alternate Universe - Military, Army, M/M, Military, Military Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24388045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vierana/pseuds/vierana
Summary: If someone would ask Ian and Mickey about their story, Ian would probably tell them that it all started with the black eye Mickey gave him the day they met at the military basic training camp.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Kudos: 55





	1. Why On Earth Him?

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge about the military structures is leaky, so please forgive me if not everything makes complete sense.  
> Side note: I am no native speaker. I'm doing this for fun and to improve my English skills. Please show mercy ;)
> 
> For the rest, simply enjoy! :)

He needed a smoke right now. The day was rough. Combat training was no piece of cake in general but he felt it’s getting harder every freaking day. They did circuit training the entire afternoon. His hands were covered in blisters from climbing the rope for at least twenty times. His knees and elbows felt sore from crawling through dirt the same amount of times. And his lounges were filled with dust from the dry climate they suffered from the last couple of weeks, inhaling the swirling sand when doing sprints.

After he showered, changed and had his well earned meal, night was just around the corner. The last smoke, before they had to turn off the lights in the community tend. He was living there in this sixty square-yard room with twelve other men. Well, it actually was more sleeping than living. They didn’t spend much time in there. The schedule was packed. Still it wasn’t easy to sit on each other like rats. No free damn space for anything. After being here for a couple of months, he sometimes felt not having even room to breathe. So he waited as long as he could, for this smoke. He waited until most of his companions were laying in bed, to be alone outside for at least these couple of minutes.

On some days he felt it was the right thing being here. No doubt, he was one of the better recruits. He loved the challenge, discovering unknown forces and pushing beyond the limits, or the adrenaline rushes when shooting a machine gun. Though sometimes he thought he deserved better. He almost scored full points on the application. Still he didn’t make it to West Point. Why? He could only imagine. His guess... His curriculum vitae didn’t filled their picture of a exemplary student. But they simply told him to definitely try next year again. He knew that wouldn’t be an option. He needed to get his shit together now. Start a new chapter now.

_ Shit. Empty pack! _ He was about to go back inside to get a fresh one, when he spotted only a couple of feet away a guy in the dark leaning against a tree. His back was facing him but he recognized that he was smoking too.   
“Ey man!” Ian yelled over, walking towards him at the same time. “Mind if I scrounge one? I’ll give it back to you tomorrow morning?”   
When the guy turned around, he realized who it actually was.  _ Gee, why on earth him?  _ The only cadet that nobody, really nobody liked. Actually nobody was even talking to him. Why? Because his only way to answer was in a stupid or rude manner. Unlike all the other recruits among themselves, he didn’t bond with anybody since he got here, because he didn’t give shit about anybody. Ian wondered why this son of a bitch even joined the army, if he didn’t care about solidarity and loyalty among his team mates. Well at least in his spare time. No doubt he was a fighter. He was strong, he was fast and his close combat skills, as well as his shooting skills were outstanding. He followed the commanders’ rules. So no trouble when it comes to that but why was he such a prick in private? In case someone dared to talk to him, it seemed that his favorite responses were - _ What the fuck do you care?-  _ and - _ How the fuck should I know?-  _ There was barely one sentence spoken by him without the word fuck or damn in it. Also this one.

“The fuck? Do I look like a damn charity shop to you? If I’d take care of everyone’s fucking smokes, I’d be broke soon. So, Five bucks.”   
Ian scoffed. This was ridiculous. “Yeah, Jesus, never mind. I look for my other pack right away.” Ian turned to walk off and mumbled to himself. “What the fuck is your problem?”   
“Did you say something?”   
“No. Have a nice fucking smoke.”   
“I am pretty sure you said something.” He was catching up with Ian, grabbed his shoulder to turn him. “If you got a damn problem with me, you better act like a man and say it to my face.”

“You know what? Actually, I do have a problem with you. I just came out here for a good smoke after this exhausting day. And we ended up here you threatening me, because I asked for one little favor. And I guess this will end bad for me no matter what I am trying to say or do next. So let’s not beat around the bush and get to the point. Why the hell are you acting like such a piece of shit since the day you got here? Why are you annoyed by every single person talking to you? I don’t think anyone gave you reason to. I really would like to now.” Ian read the nametag on his shirt “Milkovich?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit.” he read his tag as well “Gallagher.” than he punched him right into the face. This would be a black eye by tomorrow. Ian stumbled backwards but caught himself before falling. Wordless he walked off towards the tent, avoiding getting into a fight, not wanting to risk getting disciplined because of this shithead.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. This is the only language you speak. This is how you solve shit, right? Beating up your own team mates? Why on earth are you even here than? No one, and I fucking mean, no one will ever cover your ass on the battle field!” he was about to walk off.

“I am having your asses as much as all of you have mine. How many times I covered yours during training the last couple of months? But that doesn’t mean we have to be fucking friends or shit like that.”

“You know what. Do whatever you want, tough guy. I don’t care.” Ian went inside, looking for his other pack. Thank god, this Milkovich guy had his camp bed on the other side of the room. When he entered the tent a couple of minutes later, Ian turned away and got back outside soon afterwards, to finally have the smoke he needed so bad, no even more than before.

  
“Cadets! Get on your feet!”   
Everybody jumped up from the beds to stand still, when the Sergeant entered at five in the morning.   
“Today, until the next three days we are going to be on survival training. We are heading out into the woods. You will sleep there for two nights. So get everything packed you think is important, except for food. You can take two field bottles of water with you. The rest you need to find there. You have 15 minutes to get ready.”

Ian was excited. This was the first time they would leave camp for such a long time, being out there in the wilderness. They got to the bus, were they took a 2 hours ride to the middle of nowhere. He was sitting next to Lewis, who he became closest with so far. They connected immediately, shared the same sense of humor. Just were on the same page.

“Everybody listening.” The officer interrupted their light talking. “We will be there in five minutes. As soon as we get out of the bus, we will do a five-hour march northwards. After that you will operate in pairs, every team heading into another direction. Your tasks, build a save shelter, get food and something to drink, enough for surviving the next three days. In case you get into any kind of trouble you can contact us through the radio, but then you officially failed training and you will fear consequences back at camp. So you better have no emergency. I am going to list the teams now. Adams and Taylor, Lewis and Lee, Rodriguez and Jackson, Gallagher and Milkovich...”   
Ian flinched. He didn’t even listen to the rest of the names anymore. This was no option for him. Not with this guy. His eye had turned from red to deep blue and every time he had to blink it didn’t hurt but he could feel an unpleasant, annoying and unnecessary pressure. Usually he tried to avoid getting into a discussion with a commander but he needed to do something. After everyone got out of the bus Ian took his chance.

“Sir?”   
“Yes cadet Gallagher.”   
“I wanted to ask permission to switch companion for this mission, Sir.”   
“Why?”   
“Because… I don’t think it would be wise to be with someone on a team, who I have… differences with.” he clearly didn’t think this through right.   
“This is no bowl of cherries where you can pick the sweetest. Nobody cares about private issues on the battle field. You are all the same out there. And by the way cadet, I saw your little dispute with Mr. Milkovich the other evening. Now you’ll have enough time to figure your differences out. This is nothing I want to have to deal with under my command ever again. Understood, Gallagher?”   
“Yes Sir!”   
_ Shit _ ! Milkovich didn’t only ruin his smoke and gave him a black eye. Now the next three days would be hell too. But this time he wouldn’t just suck it up.

For the next hours, he was still marching along next to Lewis. Talking wasn’t allowed. They had to be cautions for any eventual danger. Not that there would have been one, but this is how you prepare.

“All right, let’s move out. Be back here in two days by exactly twelve-hundred.”   
Ian sighed.  _ Let’s get this over with. _ He gave Milkovich a short glance before walking off towards east. Of course, it would have been to easy if he simply followed.   
“What the fuck, Milkovich? Where are you going?”   
“Back south.”   
“We came from there. There’s no river, nothing. Don’t you think we basically need water to survive?”   
“There will be.” He didn’t discussed further and walked took the path they just came from.   
“You are going to kill us. I don’t wanna fail because of you acting like a selfish jerk. We are going to do this my way.”   
“Do the fuck you want. But you will end up dead first.”   
“Fucking Idiot” he yelled but then followed, without having much of another choice “Fine. Lead me to enlightenment.” Ian was in no mood for talking so he just followed him silently for around two hours, wondering what the fuck he was up to. Meanwhile he tried to create an emergency plan in his head, to get through these days with lowest damage possible.

After hiking along small paths and undergrowth for another hour Ian was sure that they were completely lost.   
“Ey man, do you still have any clue where we are?”   
“Guess what? I do, dumbass. Other than you spoiled little suburban kid, I had to find my own path since I was five years old. So stop annoying the shit out of me.”   
“You have no idea about my life and where I grew up, so keep your shitty assumptions to yourself. I mean, how could you even know? You don’t give shit about anyone else than yourself. And you really wonder why nobody trusts you? Because you are not willing to share just one useful thought with us. So no, I don’t know what you went through and I also don’t believe I’ll survive with you. But don’t blame me.”   
Milkovich stopped and turned towards Ian.   
“Listen.”   
He frowned him, because he thought he would give him another speech.   
“What?”   
“Listen! Fucking water! See moron. This direction.”   
No way, but this motherfucker was right. Maybe it was just luck. But at least he started to gain a bit of trust in this dude, feeling not completely doomed anymore.

A couple of minutes later they found a good spot to build their shelter. It was on a little elevation so it couldn't get flooded and at the same time they had a good overview of the surrounding area.   
“You’re collecting wood and start a fire. I am going to look for food.” The guy with the black hair was about to disappear in the forest.   
“Ey Milkovich, who elected you to play commander here?” Ian yelled towards his direction, still standing behind.   
“You can thank me later, freckles.”

This guy was about to freak him out. So much for building a team and work together. Well he was right with the water. Maybe this was such the craft, he was a nature talent in. At least Ian would have some time for himself now.   
Collecting wood was easy. It was October and it wasn’t raining in a while. There were some pretty heavy storms in summertime so dry sticks and branches were covering the entire area. He was done collecting enough wood for two days and nights within an hour. He refilled his water supplies, made some preparations for the night, before lightening a small bonfire. He built a improvised spear and placed himself next to the river. He wanted to hunt for fish in case Milkovich had just a big mouth.

Concerns crossed his mind when dusk was settling in and he didn’t have any luck with the fish plus his charming companion hadn’t returned yet. Rules said that he needed to look for him. The army won’t leave a man behind, no matter what a jerk he was. He got up and started packing his backpack, when he heard some rustling. Instinctually he grabbed for his knife and got into covering position behind the tent, to stare out into the dark woods. Then he black haired stepped out of some bushes.

“Finally, Milkovich. Where the fuck have you been.” Holy, he already started cursing like this dude.   
“Don’t wet yourself, Gallagher. Hunting takes time.”   
He held something furry up into the air.   
“Is that a rabbit?”   
“Damn straight. Any problems with that?”   
Ian swallowed and his eyes widened a bit. Though he knew they had to hunt, he somehow wasn’t prepared for this.   
“Uh no. Unless you do the cooking.”   
“Pussy.”   
“Fuck you.” Jesus Christ. His attitude was contagious.   
“I have berries too, in case you just decided to get vegan.”   
I don’t have a problem eating it. Just… Removing the fur. You know… Preparing.” he watched him not hesitating to get this done. “You obviously don’t.”   
Milkovich looked at him. “Fuck, are you going to throw up?”   
“No.” he frowned but decided to face something else and looked down the river instead. Listening to the water rushing over rocks and gravel helped to ease a bit.   
“Jesus Christ, Gallagher. You realize that you are in the army, right?”   
“Yes, dipshit. And in case the day of starving in war comes, I am sure I’ll be able to do this as well.”   
He frowned Ian suspiciously. “But you know this is about surviving?” He paused. “You think you can even shoot someone?”   
“When my life depends on it? No doubt.”   
“So where do you draw the line? You can’t hunt your own food but shoot a human being?”   
“Unless I don’t have to peal the skin off the guy I shot and eat him. I guess it’s different.” he frowned back. And for the first time he recognized a smirk on the guys face.   
“Who thought, cadet Milkovich has a funny sight too.” He had to admit, his smile was kinda cute. “You should include that in your daily routine once in a while.”   
“Fuck yourself.”   
Ian smirked back. Then both remind silent for a while nd they came to the point where their dinner was cooking over the fire.

Night was here and both of their backs faced the fire so they could watch the surrounding area, which they tried to illuminate as best as possible with improvised torch lights.   
“Could you shoot someone that easily?” Ian broke the silence.   
“Sure. It’s not that I haven’t been there yet.” he said it calmly but Ian got the feeling something was bothering him. Of course he wouldn’t dare to ask and risking getting snouted again. But Ian was surprised when he seemed to finally show some kind of interest.    
“What made you join the army?” Milkovich made it sound like, he had not much of a choice than to be here.   
“Didn’t get into West Point.”   
“West Point? Military academy?”   
“Yeah. Want to become an officer. Well I guess I have to work my ass off a bit more to get there. What about you?”   
“Needed to get the fuck out of town, before ending up in jail or getting killed. There’s not much left for honest business without High School graduation, unless you wanna be a freaking dishwasher for the rest of your life.”   
Wow. That was probably the longest and most personal sentence Ian ever heard from him so far.  _ We are making progress here. _ _   
_ “Right. So mind telling me now where you’re from? Not that I care. Just two guys talking to kill time.”   
“The fuck. You are still a pain in the ass, Gallagher. But if you must know, Chicago. Happy now?”   
Ian's eyes widened. “No shit! Me too.”   
“Congrats.” Milkovich didn’t seem to be much thrilled about it. “Which fancy quarter do you grew up?”   
“I don’t know if fancy is the right word to describe this part of the city. Shithole would fit better. Southside.”   
“You’re from Southside?” he wondered keeping his head down but looking up with his deep blue eyes. “How it comes I’ve never seen you around?”

That was when Ian realized how good looking he actually was once not acting like a complete asshole.   
“Wait? You’re not from Southside too.”   
“Nothing to be thrilled about, red head.”   
“Right.”   
“Gallagher? Don’t tell me you’re fucking related to Frank?”   
Ian chuckled. “Kinda. Long story... Milkovich… Any relations to Mandy?”   
“Yeah she’s my damn sister.”   
“Now you mention. Yeah, no doubt.”   
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”   
“I don’t know her very well. We had physics together. But that girl is though and badass. Didn’t hesitate to break her lab partner’s nose when he criticized her about something. Man, that guy was on the ground in a second.”   
Milkovich grinned. “Nice. That’s what I taught her. Nobody fucks with a Milkovich, you know.”   
“Yeah, no shit. I made the experience myself. Remember?” pointing at his purple colored eye.   
“Your own damn fault.”   
Sarcasm underlined his tone “Really?”   
“Course. You fucking provoked me.”   
“Right…”

  
Without any spices their food wasn’t very tasty, still better than Ian expected. They decided to do night watches. Ian would cover the first shift until 2:30am. Milkovich, the man Ian still didn’t know his first name - and wasn’t thrilled about to ask either not wanting to get another stupid answer - would do the second. Ian was sitting around the fire, poking it, when the guy with the cute smile got ready to get some sleep. He took his shirt off to change.

_Damn_. When taking a quick look at him, Ian had to admit he looked fucking hot topless. He couldn’t help but biting his inner cheek and staring a bit longer at this well trained body with all the muscles from their daily training.  
“What the fuck are you looking at?”  
“Uh, nothing.” quickly his view went back to the fire.  
“Right nothing... Are you fucking gay?”  
Ian was overwhelmingly surprised by his straight question. It took him a second to answer and decided to do the same as Milkovich would do when not wanting to talk about something.  
“What the fuck do you care?”  
“So you are.”  
He hesitated. “Yeah. So? Got a problem with that?”  
The black hair got speechless. He simply scoffed and added a short “No.” before turning around, to disappear inside the tent.”

That was a reaction Ian did not expect at all from the jerk who beat him up only yesterday and just for fun. His thoughts started to wander while watching the surrounding and trying to keep himself warm. Though he said it with a cool voice, this -no- seemed to mean so much more between the lines. He just had no clue what it was. His ideas went from one of his friends or a family member being gay, to the very unlikely scenario of him being gay and just hiding it behind his rough shelf so nobody would get suspicious because he couldn’t deal with it. Maybe that’s because he left Southside and joined the military. The more his thoughts raced the more curious he got about this guy. Though he seemed to be a asshole for most of the time, there was something thrilling about him. Something he couldn’t shake off anymore.

Time past slowly, but Ian didn’t feel tired at all when he woke his companion for shift change. He needed to figure things out. Dig deeper. Once Milkovich got dressed and took his seat around the fire, Ian was standing at the opposite side facing him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He jumped right in.

“So are you gay too?”  
“What did you call me? Say that again and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out!” he threatened him by pointing the finger at Ian.  
“I didn’t imply it. I simply asked you. Like you did, remember? Got a problem with that? Is your fucking restricted Southside brain not open enough for it?”  
He got up. Just the reaction Ian expected.  
“You wanna fucking die, Gallagher?” his voice got furious.  
“Jesus, it’s a simple question.”  
“No, I am not fucking gay, you son of a bitch. No get the fuck out of my way before I have to beat you up again.”  
“Alright. Fair enough.” but instead of walking away, he took his shirt and his undershirt off and dropped it on the ground. “So this is doing nothing to you?” he challenged him, standing in front of him, showing off his own pack of muscles, covered by slight ginger chest hair.

He raised a brow, his eyes scanning Ian’s body for an instant, before scanning the area again. “Fuck you! That’s what this is doing to me.” he said, then crossed the distance between them.  
Ian put himself in fighting position. This time it would be him handing out the first punch. And he did, right onto Milkovich’s left eye. Who surprisingly didn’t seemed to be prepared for it and stumbled backwards. But when he landed on the ground he immediately kicked Ian from the side angle so with a hook he took away the ground under his feet. Winding around Ian literally jumped at the guy who seemed to have an affection for bad tattoos. Ian was trying to avoid letting Milkovich getting back onto his feet. Beating the shit out of each other, they kept fighting on the uneven forest floor.

“What the fuck, Milkovich!” Ian screamed in pain when the bastard bit him in the lower arm.   
“It’s called street fighting you moron.”  
“I think you mean bitch fighting, you pussy.” He couldn’t take the pain of teeth in his flesh anymore. “Alright, alright.” Ian loosened his grip but instead of Milkovich giving in too, he grabbed for his shoulders, flipped both of them around and pinned his arms over his head.

“You still have to learn a few things, if you ever wanna have a chance, Gallagher.” his face was very close to Ian’s. Panting the sky blue eyes scanned his for a couple of seconds before pushing his mouth onto Ian’s. He was perplex for a second but then didn’t hesitate to join the game. Survival training just turned exciting again, when Milkovich's tongue was looking for his.  
When he realized that Ian’s body tension eased, he let go of his arms and started to unbuckle his belt. Ian simply followed his example.

Around half an hour later both were laying next to each other on the sleeping bag in the tent.  
“Fuck, Gallagher. I didn’t expect you being such a badass in bed.” he panted.  
Ian grinned. “Still not considering that you might be gay?”  
“Na, I just like to have a dick in my ass for once in a while.”  
“Sure. That was why you pushed your tongue into my mouth?”  
“Just wanted to shut you up and stop fighting me.”  
“Right.” he chuckled and turned towards him.  
“If you fucking try to kiss me I’ll knock the teeth out of your head. Every single one.”  
Ian faced the ceiling again. “Fine. So this was a booty call then, I guess.”  
“Call it the fuck you want. But don’t get the intention we are a fucking couple or anything like that. I don’t deal with such fag shit.”  
Ian smirked. “Of course you don’t. Mind telling me at least your first name now?”  
“Mickey. Are you going to write that in your diary now?”  
“Is it so fucking hard to give a normal answer at least once? By the way, I’m Ian.”  
“What the fuck do I care?”


	2. Playing For Keeps From Now On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting kinda comfortable with Ian at military training camp, their ways seperate again and Mickey tries to deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might sound a bit rough and emotionless at the beginning, because I think Mickey would just think like that, but it gets better the further you read, promised ;)

Months passed by and the hour of their official graduation to become a private was just around the corner. He passed the practical exams with flying colors. The theoretical part annoyed the shit out of him but he somehow managed it too. Now Mickey was packing his stuff. Tomorrow would be the final day of them being here. Some would get drafted and stationed somewhere around the globe immediately. Others could return home for at least a while. Somehow he hoped for first. Back in Southside there wouldn’t wait much good for him. It probably would be best to get his shit together, earning some honest money while kicking some asses or god knows what. Then again of course he wouldn’t want to end up in some fucked up war region and possibly get killed. No matter how it turned out, he didn’t have much of a damn choice anyway, right? 

Red hair entered the tent. Already dressed in his formal cadet uniform, his hair done and shaved, Mickey had to admit that Ian was looking fucking good.

“Ey man.” he simply said, before caring about his own shit. Mickey replied the same way. He took another glance at him. For god sake. He wanted to walk right over and rip his damn clothes off. There was something about this guy which let him go wild. No doubt, ginger knew what he was doing with his bone, right from the first day he got laid in the forest a couple of months ago. Never before Mickey had experienced such a great fuck. Not that he had much experience in getting nailed by dudes. But dang, he had to admit, this was so much better than fucking countless girls or some twink boys back in high school.

Not that they were together or something. Fuck no. Just whenever they got the opportunity to hook up, they took it. Which to be honest wasn’t much because of all the other bastards running around here and the huge lack of privacy. Though, better than nothing. It was all about fun, to forget the fucking daily routine here for a little while and to blow some steam. But why still give a shit now? Unless they both would get send home after graduation, he probably won’t see this fucker ever again.

Of course none of his stupid family members showed up for his graduation. Not that he expected. Not that he cared much. Maybe even better. Maybe they didn’t even know. Besides Mandy, he didn’t tell anybody anyway that he joined the army. So when standing up there on the stage, receiving his diploma and the patch for being officially a private now he took a look around the crowd. When he spotted Ian, he recognized a proud smile on his face, clapping.

_ What the fuck, Gallagher?! _ He thought almost embarrassed. Hopefully nobody would get suspicious about them fucking. In contrast to the other guests who did some formal clapping and the other cadets who were just sitting there pretty unimpressed about him graduating or probably even being happy that they wouldn’t have to deal with him ever again, Ian seemed to really give a shit. Yeah, no doubt, Mickey left an impression around here. He clearly won’t miss one single shithead among all these motherfuckers down there.

That’s also why he was sitting outside later that evening and having a smoke by himself while the others were celebrating inside. Ridiculous, celebrating with food and music but without one sip of alcohol. Not even beer, for god sake. He shook his head unbelievingly and spotted Ian in the doorway stepping out for a smoke too.

“Ey Gallagher! Got assigned?”

Ian made his way over to Mickey.

“Actually, yeah. Division A-105 to Venezuela, Caracas. Leaving right tomorrow.”

“Caracas? Damn. Playing for keeps form now on, huh? What do they need you for there?”

“Emergency care, doing some clean up after the hurricane, which destroyed a big part of the city.”

“Shit. For how long?”

“A couple of weeks, I guess. What about you?”

“Going home.”

“Good for you. So… I guess that’s it then?”

“What?” he played dumb, of course knowing what he meant.

“Us. Fucking.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Are you good with it?”

“Sure. You?”

“Course.”

Mickey didn’t know whether to believe him or not but then again, what difference would it make anyway. “Wanna go one last time?”

“Fuck, why not.”

He got up and flicked his cigarette away. They sneaked around the building looking for a dark spot and made sure nobody could see them. Worse than getting caught by one of their companions, would probably be getting court-martialed.

Mickey unbuckled the belt of his uniform and shoved down his pants and underpants, before finding some hold with his hand on the wall.

“Go easy on me, alright?”

Mickey shivered slightly when the red head entered him slowly. Once he adjusted to his easy thrusts Ian placed a hand on the wall right next to his, to find some hold too when he increased the speed. His head was now right next to his ear and he could hear him panting. He sensed his breath on his cheek and his unique scent in his nose. His six pack on his back hugged him from behind to grab his dick with the other hand and began to caress it in synchronized rhythms to his thrusts. Fuck this was so good. To good. All of it.

“Fuck Gallagher, you make me to lose my shit.” Mickey whispered underneath his breath. How the fuck will he be able to live along in the future without this shit anymore? He tried to prolong and enjoy as long as he could. He knew Ian wouldn’t come until he hadn’t. Mickey didn’t want to be over with this soon. Ever again. Fuck.

Though, when Ian speeded up the pace he couldn’t hold back any longer and they both ended up pretty much at the same time.

Mickey pulled back up his pants and buckled his belt, before turning around, leaning against the wall, while lighting a cigarette.

“Took your time today, Milkovich.”

“Want you to fucking remember me, when you’re down there banging some Hispanic kid.” he said calmly before walking off. He didn’t want to give him the intention that he cared. This was over anyway so there was no need for talking about overreacting fag shit feelings. Though, he couldn’t deny anymore that he didn’t want this to be over.

“Yeah, always nice doing business with you!” Ian yelled remaining behind.

  
Mickey couldn’t find much sleep that night. Concerns about his future were spinning around his head. He didn’t want to go back home, getting confronted with all the old shit. With his fucked up family, their way of dealing with business and without any perspective of a quite reasonable future. Before he came here, it didn’t bother him that much, he just didn’t want to end up in jail. But the last couple of months made him realize that there is something worth fighting for. Something new and exciting.

That’s why he made a decision. He must be crazy for considering this but it couldn’t be worse than home, right? He kept staring at his wristwatch until he finally got up at 6:30 am, or as the army calls it, six hundred. After his morning routines, he found himself in front of the administration offices’ door punctually at seven hundred. He hesitated for a second but then was determined to knock.

“Private Milkovich, I didn’t expect you to come here. What can I do for you?”

The big guy in his fifties, named Colonel Anderson, asked with a demanding military voice.

“Sir I would like to get assigned for active duty.”

Anderson’s eyes widened, scanning him.

“Assign. Now?”

“They sent me home, but I would like to do something useful.”

“Let me get your folder.” He opened a huge metal file cabinet and looked for the papers, then scrolled through them.

“I don’t see any applications for assignments to active duty.”

“Applications, Sir? I’d go voluntarily.”

“Usually recruits fill out at least one application before graduating to get into active duty. You have to apply, Milkovich, to have better chances getting stations where you wish. You, private, didn’t apply for anything. That leaves you at home until we know where you belong best.”

This was a joke right?

“People have to apply to get into possible danger?”

“Yes. That’s how the military works, son. When you join the army you should be aware of that. And by the way, didn’t you want to do just the same? Like only three months to late.”

“Yeah, but who thought, there would be a fu… I mean, who thought there would be a waiting list longer than the one for getting into the white house. I simply want to assign for Division A-105 to Caracas. It’s dangerous and I am sure nobody applied voluntarily for that. You can’t have enough men there, right?”

“Caracas? How it comes private?”

“Heard there are some pretty beaches down there. Not thrilled about my shitty town back home, Sir.”

The man in the uniform eyed him, not being sure whether he was joking or not. “Well, like I said, there is nothing I can do. Decisions are made and the platoon is leaving in an hour anyway. Dismissed.”

“But Colonel.”

“Haven’t I’ve been clear? Go home and enjoy your holidays. The Army will call you sooner than you expect. Dismissed.”

Shit, this wasn’t what he expected. Apply for getting in danger. Fucking ridiculous. So much for his plan.

Stupid shit. Now he wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of here. He got back to the tent, packed his last things, grabbed his fucking backpack and was about to leave the facility and the freaking entire state to get back to Chicago.

“Already going home?” he heard the familiar voice from behind.

He turned. “Yeah I am fucking done with this shithole here.”

Ian followed up until they were standing right across each other.

“So, no goodbye. Nothing?”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? Have fun in fucking Caracas. Don’t die. Maybe we ran into each other back in Southside one day and have a nice bang then.”

Mickey turned and was about to walk off.

“Or, you could give me your phone number?”

“What damn for?”

Ian exactly knew that he tried to fool him so his voice got annoyed.

“So I could call once I am back, for a hookup. Or if you give some shit, you could text once in a while, checking in if I am still alive.”

“What the fuck do I care?”

“Seriously? Still playing tough? You know what, be the asshole you’ve always been and do the fuck you want.” He pressed something against his chest and Mickey intentionally grabbed for it, like you do to avoid that things are falling to the ground.

“In case you stop being such a jerk.” he turned around and walked back to the tent.

Mickey took a closer look and unfolded a piece of paper which obviously was ripped out from a notebook. Simply Ian and his number. He crumpled it up but instead of throwing it away he put it into his pockets.

-

Weeks passed and it was getting cold outside. He got a job as a cashier at a toll booth, just enough hours to have some money for booze and cigarettes in his pockets. He preferred not getting involved into any trouble by dirty business, ending up with a fucking warrant or worse, before getting assigned to probably fucking Israel or something like that. For the rest of the day he was mostly hiding in his room drinking, sitting at the bar drinking, or hanging out at an abandoned fabric area, firing at some left pottery, to keep fit in shooting.

But for now he was laying in bed around midnight and couldn’t believe what he was about to do. The phone in his hands, he was staring at the screen.

“How is shit down there? Mick.” he wouldn’t send this out for real, would he? This is ridiculous. The fuck he cared what that red boy was doing. When he had left back then, he was fucking angry. He played with the thought of throwing the paper just right out of the bus. But the closer home he got and the further away from all of the past months, anger calmed and regrets started to settle in. He took the piece out of his pocket and saved the number right into his phone so it wouldn’t get lost. Just in case of course, before putting it back into his pockets.

And now… He wasn’t that desperate. There are fucking a million of other options to get laid. Not that he hadn't tried yet. He nailed a couple of girls around the hood. One who was running after him since elementary, and some more he met at the bar drunk and simply banged them in the bathroom. Sometimes it was just enough to get fucking release but sometimes he barely wasn’t able to get hard. When that happened he decided for plan B and installed fucking Grindr on his phone. He hooked up with some dudes. By some he got already turned off after the first fucking sentence that came out of their twink mouths, not believing how gay they all sounded. Of course he fucked them anyway to find redemption. The only man he allowed himself to get nailed by, was a complete jerk, talking to much, moaning to much, doing some pussy fag boning though he looked tough.

But the lowest point he reached, when he banged that chick, with the kid who spread his entire freaking toys all over the appartement. After a shady fuck he ended up taking a piss in the bathroom and spotted this red head soldier toy on the floor, bringing back immediately uneasy memories of Ian benign stuck down there in this fucking rainforest continent, instead of beign with him at camp or fucking Southside or whereever.

The That’s when he decided he was over with getting fucked by any random dude ever again and ended up sitting in bed staring at the screen.  _ Fuck _ ! he thought and finally pressed the send button. He kept watching the screen, looking for two checkmarks to turn blue. Nothing. Not even two ticks.

Ok this was stupid. He threw the phone aside, turned off the light and tried to find sleep.

  
Days passed bye. He checked his phone at least once a day. But there was still this single tick symbol. He didn’t allow him to get worried. There could have been fucking hundreds of reasons why the message didn’t get through. And if there would have happened something he… well, he didn’t know this dude very well anyway… And that’s exactly the reason why he avoided bonding with anybody back at camp. What’s the point? Walking from one funeral to another, crying about gone friends, who got send home in a fucking coffin. Jesus no way! 

So what’s the big deal? He simply had to find someone else who was good at banging. It couldn’t be that fucking hard. Maybe he should try out a gay club to nail or get nailed by twenty more dick bitches. Gallagher couldn’t be the only one in the entire fucking town who knows how Mickey's getting hard. He’ll figure this out sooner or later.

  
At the end of the day there was this guy, what was his name again? He met him someday at this gay bar uptown and he did his job quite good. He looked fucking hot too. He guessed the red hair was just a coincidence because for the rest he was nothing like Ian. Well, thank god he wasn’t that freaking gay type either. He was a dude with whom it was ok to hang out for a couple of hours. Have some beer before and sometimes even after a nice fuck. He wasn’t much of a talker, just like he preferred it. He had some crazy shit tattoos all over his body. The rest he didn’t remember. Was studying at some college in Northside. What the fuck did he care.

His phone was vibrating when the two of them were sitting at the Alibi. He didn’t expect it anymore, but it was him.

“Shit is crazy down here. Storms. Iguanas are falling out of the trees like walnuts. Can you fucking believe that?” Unintentionally he had to smirk because of Gallagher using the word fuck just because knowing that he would. “Takes a while to respond. Almost no signal down here. How is shit in Southside?”

A rock of relief fell off his chest, though still not admitting to himself that he really cared. 

He replied immediately, hoping he’d still be in the area with signal.

“Shit. Already know when you’re getting out of there? Southside is shitty as always.”

He tried to focus on his date again but as soon as the phone was vibrating only a minute later his attention shifted.

“I guess not that quick. I have the feeling it’s getting even worse than actually progressing for good.”

Again he replied immediately.

“Already find a good bum?”

“The fuck do you care? ;)”

“I don’t”

They were writing back and forth for almost half an hour straight, Mickey not caring about the dude on the other side of the table anymore, so the guy finally left.

Then the replying suddenly stopped and left behind some open questions.

  
Questions that didn’t get answered until today.

  
He got awakened by his ringing phone. What a fucking ungodly hour was it? Through his window wasn’t even falling any daylight yet. He rubbed his eyes to get a clear vision, looking onto the screen.

_ Ian _ .

His first thought in this sleepy state,  _ he was home _ . Mickey didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Dafuq? Missed my ass so much you couldn’t wait a few hours to call?”

But all he heard was rustling and rattling on the opposite side of the line. This was clearly a pocket call. Though he couldn’t understand a word, he recognized the familiar voice and the one of someone else. They somehow sounded hectic or uneasy. Then the connection broke.

That weird tingly feeling on the back of the neck? Mickey got that feeling when hearing his voice. He for sure did not believe in sixth senses, but there was something not right with him. He didn’t know how, or what it was, but he just knew.

He tried to call back a couple of times, but he only reached his mailbox over and over.

  
Another week passed without any life sign. He kept telling himself it was nothing, but he somehow needed to be sure Ian was ok. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. He never ever had done this before. Giving a shit.

A girl with dark ginger hair and a toddler on the arm opened.

“Yeah?” her voice sounded stressed. But no doubt they were related.

“I take a wild guess you are Ian’s sister or something. Heard anything from him?”

“And who are you?”

“Mickey. A friend. We were at military training together.”

She eyed him from head to toe.

“You? Military training?”

“Yeah. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He frowned. “Have you heard anything, yes or no?”

“Never mind. But no, not for a couple of weeks. Sorry. I need to go, have a house full of kids driving me nuts. Anything else?”

“No.”

He turned and stepped down the stairs.

“Private Milkovich?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Colonel Patrick. You got assigned.”

It was a Monday in November when he received the call. Now it was Friday and he had to leave for Somalia in three days.

He was sitting at the Alibi, mentally preparing for his mission by drowning his concerns, his fingers clinched around the fifth glass of Jim Beam, waiting for some more to come.

A couple of stools away Frank Gallagher was blabbering about something in his advanced stage of drunkenness.

“My son’s a fucking war hero. Saved lives of thousands strangers while risking his own. And what he gets? Nothing. Hospital bills they pay. Bravo! But then what? Living on the street under the bridge? Nobody cares in this fucking State of America about what heroic things they did. Instead veterans have to live on family costs from then on. I mean we know it from Korea and Vietnam but nothing has changed since that day. At least Ian is young and smart, no doubt he’s a Gallagher, he will figure something out. Maybe going to college. Who really should get paid by these military smartasses.”

Mickey’s stomach twitched when he heard his name.

“Ian’s alive?” he got up from his stool tottering over to the drunk.

Frank didn’t bother much and continued his speech.

“Yeah you betcha. Nothing kills a Gallagher easily. Though I have to admit his condition has been better. In hospital for months. Now they finally transferred him to Chicago. So family could take care of him, probably because they don’t want to take responsibility anymore. A real wretch, though. I mean, I broke every single bone of my body at least once in my lifetime but this…. Jesus… I sincerely hope he gets back onto his feet someday.

  
Ian is back. Well, in a hospital, but he’s back and he’s alive that’s all he wanted to hear.

He didn’t think of waiting until he'll get out. Already the next day he spotted him standing there on crutches in the middle of the hallway of the city clinic. Thank god he didn’t even look half as bad as he imagined after Frank's vivid story. He had some bruises and scratches and a broken leg but beside that, he seemed to be pretty much ok. Ian spotted him from the distance. Both kept staring at each other for a couple of seconds before Mickey crossed the distance.

“Jesus Christ, Gallagher, come here.” He pulled him into a close hug.

He literally soaked up his body heat, enjoyed sensing every fucking single remaining muscle he felt on his skin, he inhaled the sweet smell of his body scent from his neck. And his hair, god how much he missed stroking through that hair.

He’s here with him. He really is back.

After a while he pushed back. Ian looked for his eyes and Mickey could see so many emotions in it. Then the red head narrowed and kissed him.

Instantly Mickey pushed him away.

“What the fuck, Gallagher.” he looked around assuring nobody saw them. But Ian, who was still standing on crutches, stumbled backwards and fell, landing on his back.

Twisted with pain, he held his rips.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Mickey didn’t expect that to happen and after a short state of shock he tried to help him up.

“Get the fuck off me.” he pushed him away.

So he kept just standing there watching Ian crawling back onto his feet while pushing himself up after finding hold on a chair. He grabbed for his crutches and limped over to his room, opened the door and was about to disappear, when Mickey followed and stopped him from closing it. He entered and shut the door behind them, to make sure nobody would listen.

“Look man…” with his hand he shoved over his black hair, taking a second to find the right words. It was clearly not easy for him.

“Look, I thought you’re fucking dead or something.” he scoffed and faced the floor, hiding the emotions. He took a deep breath. “I missed you.” he looked back up scanning Ian’s green eyes with his own sky-blue ones. 

“The shit we had, I wanna have it again. But… I don’t know man, I never had something like that with another guy and it’s fucking weird.”

Ian smirked. Finding it kinda cute how tough-Milkovich was now acting more like an insecure school boy.

“Get the fuck over here.”

He made a step towards him and kissed him again. But this time Mickey didn’t push him away. This time he was fully committed and it felt fucking good.

Mickey was surprised when Ian pulled back only a couple of seconds later. But he knew what he was up to when he hobbled to the door to lock it.

“We might have to improvise a bit with this fucking thing on my leg but I am confident we’ll find a way.” Ian crossed the distance and pulled him close again to kiss him once more, before flipping him around, kissing his neck.

The hospital bed was just large enough so both could lay right next to each other, facing the ceiling, after their sweet reunion.

“I have to leave for fucking Somalia on Monday.”

“Shit.” Ian scoffed and turned towards him to search for his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”

Mickey raised his brow while scanning his damn cute freckled face.

“Don’t let this be the end and come the fuck back to me, Milkovich.”

“I fucking promise, Gallagher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking until the end! If you enjoyed reading, please leave kudos, it would mean a lot :)


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